


Dreamscape

by necronism



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game), Bright Falls - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necronism/pseuds/necronism
Summary: Sometimes, it's obvious that you're in a dream, but that doesn't mean you can control the world that has been created around you; sometimes it belongs to a more powerful entity that has laid out the field for you and another. Alan Wake finds himself alone in a universe unlike his own, and feels the immediate urge to fight his way out. His challenger? An unkempt beast of a stag.





	Dreamscape

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely short, fairly old and unchecked ficlet from years ago, so I apologize for any mistakes of any kind. This was some sort of dream for me that I randomly started writing very late in the night. That much I remember. It was some sort of headcanon or alternate entrance of Alan Wake to Bright Falls, but exit of Jake Fischer to the game itself.

When you're trapped in a dream, the only thing you know to do is adapt to the surroundings of your mind. As the coma extends your subconscious to greater lengths, there is more for the dream to create. Vast lands and fears, as far as the eye can see. When you stand on the pier, the gaping maw of an ocean of darkness before you, one is tempted to leap in and not face the world before them. If there is a goal to reach, and they succeed, is their any reward? Is there any waking up? Or does this rewind itself, spitting a creator back onto the shores of a ceaseless, deadly imagination? 

It's been several years in the mind of Alan Wake, and what was once a tame woodland area has outgrown him to become unforgiving wilderness. Trees are twisted and gnarled from the evil seeping into their roots; animals no longer recreate themselves to be slaughtered. Alan no longer has the need to eat or drink. It's become an instinctual illusion for him. The hunger in his belly isn't real, no matter the weight he loses or the things he sees in his dreary state. If he is to eat to survive, he manages on carrion and the dry goods he finds in the crippled houses left along the shore. 

The maw of the chasm greets him on all sides. Below is the waters of the lake, stained black with the rotting bodies of its victims. When the sun dares to rise, this is the first thing that Alan Wake is greeted with, and the last he forced to bid goodnight if so much as thinks about sleep, when it becomes more than a metaphysical desire of defeat. He hasn't seen his own reflection in months, perhaps since the world began to devour itself. No more husks came around to remind him what humanity was like in here. There were no more cars or roads to get him further to or from anywhere. Whenever Alan did find a reflective surface, he stopped to trim down his beard and hair with a jagged blade. This clumsy display of vanity left more scars than it ever did him good. 

There was no concept of time, no electricity, no assistance. Any compass he had acquired had long since betrayed him. There was no omnipresent voice to lead him to his next task. For whatever reason he had been sent into the depths of his mind in the first place had long since been forgotten. Alan Wake himself had been forgotten. He sat on the edge of chasms and discussed nothing, looked for no one and became nothing. He made fires when he thought he should be cold, ate the world around him when he thought himself hungry. Displaced canisters of coffee kept him awake when he thought the discipline of insomnia was enough to get him out of here. Nature did not reward Alan Wake, nor did it seek to punish him further. 

A sun would rise to reveal a figure on the hills before him. Lithe and taught, a great flurry of antlers turning slowly to catch the rays of sunlight on the webs between its bows. A great stag, looking on to the world, but never at Alan Wake. He saw it existed but the beast never seemed any closer. What did it survive on? Where were his mates? If there was one stag, there should be an abundance of pests that followed. If it meant food (if he thought himself hungry), or furs (if he thought himself cold), there was a reason for its existence. A goal. A sight to himself towards, even if it meant circling around the chasm for the first time in three years.

It took several days for Alan to reach the spot to where he has last seen the great stag. From where it had once stood and where Alan now sat, the world around him became small. There was no end to the gnarled wildness. Civilization itself had ceased to be, simply crumbling into dust and letting the world bury it beneath old life. There was no stag to meet him, and when he descended he found no tracks. The only evidence that the animals had been through here were scars left in the trees, where antlers had struggled to pass through. Alan, thinking himself hungry and cold, followed the scars to the other side of the forest. 

The beast stood, staring into the sky. Its antlers bower back from the base, two massive hands with many fingers reaching for the sky and world around. Many leaves and twigs were tangled within, old webs and moss hanging from the higher bows. It stood still, not appearing to be breathing, until Alan stepped closer and twig snapped under his boot.

Any other deer may jumped and fled, but this stag turned its head in acknowledgement and looked at Alan. Was this a moment between them? A man who didn't recognize his own humanity, staring into the oddly human eyes of a beast that could nourish him back. If he ate, proper, killed decently, would he be rewarded? 

Alan raised the old dagger from his belt, slowly as not to startle the beast. The animal was beyond fear, past terrified, settling into its own sense of acceptance. Death was inevitable for the creature. The antlers has slowed it down as the years passed. While with no natural enemies, it had been threatened to become trapped or fall and become injured. It looked away from Alan and his dagger, stepping forward and hovering above the chasm before it. 

“No,” Alan whispered, remembering that he could speak. The animal obeyed, stepping back from the edge of the world and turning to the man that willed his existence to remain. He still held the dagger, approaching the beast for the kill. But once in range of its still, steady stare, he dropped the blade and grabbed the beast of a stag by the throat. Its eyes widened, regarding Alan with a look of betrayal. But it did not fight. 

All this hiking and trekking across nothingness still made Alan Wake a stronger man for it. While his hands could not reach completely around the stag’s throat, he knew he was crushing it from the inside out. The stag choked once, perhaps twice, before it began to thrash. It brought its great antlers down upon Alan, who staggered but was too far in to let go. No matter what pain he thought himself feeling, or the warmth of his own blood against his old clothing. Foreign sensations not given to him in years. This was how he knew he was close to waking up. No matter how much the beast fought now, the taste of his old life began at the tip of his fingers that sank into the stag’s throat. The chill of the stag’s blood under his nails as he broke through fur, skin, finally able to - END.

The stag crumpled, legs folding beneath its great weight. At his hands, the great beast lay suffocated and deceased in this world. Alan could taste victory on the tip of his tongue as it pressed to his teeth. He was smiling. He was unsure. Nothing was happening and yet, he had one. 

The weight of the antlers dragged the body from him, rolling it toward the chasm. Alan lunged to drag it into place but it was too much for him. Both bodies fell, one limp and graceful, the other finding his voice and letting out a primal yell as they both fell toward the gaping maw of the black lake. 

He jerked awake where he lay, stunned by the bright lights around him. While the world seemed to be in a constant blur,  a constant hum, he could distinguish several sounds among the others. A steady mechanical whine, hushed voices that began to stack upon one another. Alan looked over from where he lay to find people crowding around a bed. They shouted to one another, gesturing wildly until the chaos came to a head. They were still, silent for a moment before turning from the body that lay in the bed. 

Two wide, large eyes stared across at Alan. He was startled, but for a moment, until he realized the life had left them. The man lay still with his head rolled to one shoulder. His hair was a mess, a patchy beard in the same state as anyone else who had been left ungroomed. 

The wide eyes were afraid, afraid of what they had last seen take the life from them, if only to deliver it back into his neighbor, who now stared down across the hospital bed to find himself very much awake.

“You've been in a crash, Mr. Wake,” someone said, a hand coming down on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, but the other driver didn't make it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, yeah, it's sort of my headcanon here that Jake Fischer has been stuck there for a while due to Bright Falls' treatment and imprisonment of his mind/body/soul and Alan Wake freed him through a mercy kill.


End file.
